“Lauren.” He took hold of both her hands. “Do you really want to talk about this tonight?”
“Do you really want to avoid it?” Her answer was quick, and regret filled her. She ached to go to him, lose herself in his arms, and kiss him all night long. “I’m sorry.”
He reached for her and she slid closer to him. “You see things your way, and I see them mine. Can’t we be okay with that for now?”
“Yes.” She looked at him. Their faces were close again. “For now.”
“Meaning what?” He angled his body toward her, tracing her jaw with his finger.
“Meaning we don’t have to talk about it this week, Shane. We can figure it out later, when it’s time to go home.”
He kissed her then, and in the time it took her to respond, all the passion from earlier was back. He eased himself from her and took a breath. That’s when she noticed his eyes — they were eyes that belonged to a seventeen-year-old boy she’d promised to love forever.
“You’re forgetting one thing.”
“What?” She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to be lost in his arms, searching desperately for a way back to what they’d shared before.
“You forgot that this is home. Here.” He kissed her again and another time. “Right here, with me.”
She wanted to believe him. Oh, how she wanted to. But she couldn’t. He was wrong. Home was her apartment in Afghanistan, where she wrote stories that shed light on the reasons war could never bring about peace. Home was hitting the dusty roads with Scanlon beside her, his big canvas camera bag sitting on the seat between them. But she couldn’t say so.
Not when she planned to spend the next week pretending he was right.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Emily woke to the clipped sound of a single siren.
She sat straight up and looked at her dresser alarm clock. Six a. m. Lights were flashing outside the window and suddenly she was awake enough to understand what was going on. Her heart felt like it was turning somersaults inside her chest. Something must’ve happened with Papa.
Her mom was sleeping in the office; her dad on the living room sofa. Now she and her mother met in the hallway and hurried down the stairs. They were halfway down when they saw her grandpa on a stretcher, being taken out through the front door. Her grandma was saying, “I’ll be right out. I want to ride with him.” She shot them a quick glance. “He had a seizure. They want to admit him, just in case there’s something they can do.”
Near the side entrance to the living room, Emily’s dad walked up and gave his head a quick shake. “Mrs. Anderson, can I do anything?”
“Bring the others.” Her grandma ran into the entryway with Papa’s two blankets. Then she took quick hold of Shane’s wrist and looked at the rest of them. “He’s stable. He’ll be okay for now. Come later this morning, okay?”
Emily padded down the stairs the rest of the way and darted over to her grandmother, giving her a fast hug. She had never been more afraid in all her life. “Tell him we’re praying for him.”
“I will.” She paused, and Emily thought she looked about to collapse. “The doctor told me seizures would mean he was close to the end.” She took another step toward the door. “I thought you should know.” She bid them good-bye and then she left.
The three of them stood in the entryway, listening to the ambulance pull away. Every few seconds the sirens gave a short blast — probably so they wouldn’t disturb the neighborhood any more than necessary.
Emily’s throat was tight. “I can’t go back to sleep.”
“No.” Her mother took slow steps the rest of the way down. She wore a white T-shirt and what looked like black running pants. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”
Emily couldn’t help but notice the way her mom went to her dad and slid one arm under his and up along his back. Emily had wondered what their time alone would bring about, and now she had her answer. They were happy and in love and probably making plans to get married. Just like she’d always dreamed. But there was one problem. In her dream, Papa wasn’t on the verge of dying just when everything was coming together.
They sat on the sofa, her dad in the middle, and for the next two hours they took turns talking and dozing off, leaning their heads on each others’ shoulders. At eight o’clock her dad stood and stretched. “I’m going to take a shower.” He looked at the clock near the front door. “Let’s try to leave in an hour.”
When he was gone, Emily slid closer to her mother. She was terrified about her grandpa, but she couldn’t let that stop her from enjoying this time with her mom. For a few moments she leaned into her, resting her head on her mother’s good shoulder. Then she sat up and gave her mom a hopeful look. “So, is he just like you remembered?”
“Shane?”
Her mother’s reaction wasn’t quite right. She smiled, but she didn’t light up like she should’ve.
“He’s very handsome, if that’s what you mean.”
“He is.” Emily giggled. “But I meant the other stuff.” She scrunched her shoulders up a few inches. “Do you think you’ll be back together after this?”
Her mom looked at her, and then let out a sad, frustrated sigh. “Honey, seeing him again . . . this time together is wonderful.” Her tone softened. “But don’t get your hopes up.” She sighed and took hold of Emily’s hand. “We’ve grown up a lot in eighteen years.”
Emily tried not to gulp. She’d wondered but been afraid to ask. With their opposing occupations, her mom and dad had to be in opposite corners, for sure. “It’s about the war, right?”
“That’s one area.” Her answer was quick and it shook Emily’s confidence. “We’ve become very different people.”
“It doesn’t seem that way. Not when I look at you.”
She smiled. “I like being with him. That part’s easy.”
“Well . . . then maybe it’ll work out after all.”
“Emily.” Her mom lowered her chin, and in a nice way her look said the conversation was over. “Let’s just enjoy this week.” Her smile faded. “We have Papa to think about. That’s most important right now, okay?”
Her answer didn’t come easily. “Okay.”
She wanted to scream or run or keep them together in this same house until the end of time. But none of that would bring her parents together the way they’d been before, in a way where their politics and differences wouldn’t matter.
Only God could do that.
Emily’s questions had Lauren off balance all day. But she couldn’t spend much time thinking about Shane or how they’d changed or whether they could find something again when this week was over. Her father was far too sick to think of anything but him and her mother and how quickly the end was coming.
She and Shane and Emily arrived at the hospital just after nine. Her mother met them in the hall outside his room. Lauren took the lead, meeting her mom halfway and taking her hands. “How is he?”
“It’s moving so fast. It could be anytime.” She looked down and their foreheads came together.
Lauren gripped her mother’s arm at the news. “No . . . ”
It was too soon. She hadn’t had time to talk to him or find out what she’d missed for all those years. On the hardest days in the Middle East, she always believed she could go back home if she wanted to. Her daddy would always take her back. But now he would be gone, and a place in her heart would never be the same again.
Her mother was trembling, probably tired and scared and trying not to break down. A moment later Emily and Shane came up and circled their arms around the two of them.
“Is he awake?” Shane’s voice rang with compassion. “I’d like to see him. Maybe pray with him.”
“He is.” Her mom sniffed and straightened a little. “We should all go in. He’s been asking for you.”
Why did she run when she did? Why didn’t she at least call? Just one call and she would’ve found Emily and her parents. Together they might even have found Shane. Maybe she’d be writing for t
he Tribune and covering features or entertainment — something less life shattering than war.
She trailed the others into the room. Her heart felt like it was being dragged behind her on a chain. Had she done this to her father? Had his grief and longing and missing her all those years given him a deadly disease?
No. She couldn’t think that way, not now when he needed her smiling face at his bedside. He was greeting Emily, and she watched her daughter lay her head on her grandpa’s chest. “Papa, we’re gonna stay here all day, okay?”
“I’m . . . sorry I’m sick.” He gave her a weak smile and then looked around the room at the rest of them. “Not much of a party, huh?”
Emily nuzzled her face against his. “We don’t need a party, Papa. We just need you.”
Shane looked back at Lauren and motioned for her to come closer. She did so without hesitation, but her attention was still on her father and Emily, the relationship they had. Emily had told her that her dad had changed, that he wasn’t the way he’d been, wasn’t the man who’d hurt her so. Watching the two of them, the way her dad held Emily’s hand and spoke softly to her, she knew the truth. Her daughter was right.
In some ways, it was another loss. Had she come home sooner, she would’ve had time to share that same sort of tender relationship with him. Emily gave him one more hug and then she stepped back. Next, Shane put his hand on Lauren’s father’s shoulder. “God has a plan in all this.” Shane’s voice was strong and compassionate, a tone that showed how much he cared and that he held no hard feelings toward the man. “Don’t forget that, okay?”
Her dad looked intently at Shane. “My girls are going to need you.”
“Yes.” His chin trembled, but he clenched his jaw and nodded. “I know.”
“Don’t leave them, okay?” He glanced at the others. His eyes settled on Lauren, and she wasn’t sure who his next words were directed at. “They need you . . . even if they don’t think they do.”
Shane reached back and took Lauren’s hand. “I know, sir. I’m not going anywhere.” He eased back against the wall and gave Lauren a look that melted her.
It was her turn. She came to her father’s side. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hi, little girl.”
Her eyes were dry, but a sob caught in her throat. She remembered a thousand times when she’d greeted him that way, back before she’d taken up with Shane, when he thought of her as the girl who couldn’t do anything wrong. In some ways this was better. Because he certainly knew the truth. She was miles from perfect, yet his eyes told her he loved her no less. In fact he cared for her more than ever. His hand was rough against hers. Rough and dry and cold, as if death was already staking its claim on him. She leaned close and kissed his fingers. “We need more time.”
“Yes.” His voice was gravelly, so low it was impossible to hear him without leaning closer. “You know . . . what I’m going to tell you.”
She wrinkled her nose, confused. “No, Dad.” Her heart skipped a beat. Was this when he’d remind her that the whole tragedy of their lives was her fault, that she never should’ve slept with Shane in the first place? He wouldn’t do that now, would he? She swallowed her fears. “What do you want to tell me?”
“About Shane.” The words were an effort for him. “That young man has loved you forever.” He took a rest and for a moment he did nothing but breathe. “He still loves you.” His look grew more intense. “And you love him too, I . . . know you do.”
She felt the sting of tears. She’d spent all these years forcing herself not to cry. But now, crying was as familiar as breathing. “Yes.” She didn’t turn around or look at Shane. She wasn’t even sure he could hear them. “Shane loves me.”
“Don’t . . . don’t let him go again. Love doesn’t mean . . . seeing eye to eye on everything.”
Was her father that aware of what was happening around him? Had he really known that who they’d become as adults could make her and Shane walk away from this week and close the door on their past for good? Even thinking about it hurt her, but what choice did they have? She drew a steadying breath. “Dad, I — ”
“Shh.” He held her hand to his cheek and winked at her. His eyes danced as they hadn’t since the group of them walked into his hospital room. “Don’t analyze. I’m right about this.” His lungs sounded raspier than before. “You’ve lost so much, Lauren. Don’t lose what God wants to give you now.”
Lauren felt her own wisdom dissolving. He was right, wasn’t he? She had lost so very much. They all had. Losing Shane now would be tragic, even if she still couldn’t see a way for it to work between them. She leaned over and put her cheek against his. “Daddy!” She hugged him, wishing she still had a thousand more times to do this. “How do you still know me so well?”
“Because — ” he brushed his scruffy unshaven face against hers, the way he’d done when she was little — “daddies never forget their little girls.” He looked at her, leaving just enough space between them so he could search her eyes. “When I get to heaven . . . I won’t forget you even then. I’ll be waiting . . . for you there, believing you’ll be along one day. Just like I . . . believed you’d be along one day . . . for the last eighteen years.”
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t squeeze a single word past the emotions stuck in her throat. Instead she held him and willed life into him. He was kind and wise and gentle, and he loved her — he always had. Even when he hadn’t used the best judgment in showing her, still he loved her. Now she wanted another thirty years with him. At least.
Please . . . please . . .
She didn’t know who she was pleading with, but it didn’t matter. She had to try. Snuggling against him, her knees ached from the awkward position, but she didn’t move until there was a sound at the door. Only then did she straighten and look past the years to his tender soul. “I love you, Daddy.”
He gave her hand another squeeze. “I love you, sweetheart.”
At that moment, a familiar-looking couple in their late fifties or early sixties walked through the door. Lauren looked at them and frowned. She knew them from somewhere. Their eyes held the haunting look of guilt and trepidation, as if maybe they were entering a place where they weren’t welcome. In a rush, Shane went to them — and in a sudden flash she understood.
Sheila and Samuel Galanter. Shane’s parents. The people who had once been her parents’ closest friends. The people who took Shane from her. Lauren felt her knees start to shake and she braced herself against the hospital bed. Why had they come, and what could they possibly say now? For a moment she couldn’t decide whether to excuse herself from the room or stay and hear what they had to say. She looked at the floor, her heart racing, and she made up her mind. She would stay.
Whatever was about to take place, she wanted a front-row seat to see it.
Angela was trying to keep from falling to the floor.
She was standing on the other side of Bill, opposite Lauren, when first Samuel, then Sheila walked through the door. At first Angela couldn’t make herself believe what she was seeing. The stress of Bill’s illness, the wonder at having Shane and Lauren back, all of it was maybe making her a little loopy.
But then Shane went to them. “Mom, Dad.” He hugged them one at a time and then stepped back.
Angela couldn’t see Shane’s face, but she had the sense he wasn’t surprised. Had he called them, asked them to come? Across the room, Emily moved close to Lauren and whispered something. Lauren nodded, her face pale.
Next to Angela, Bill slid a little higher on his pillow. “I can’t believe it.” He looked up at her, his voice hushed. The Galanters were still talking to Shane near the door, so they couldn’t hear him. Bill covered her hand with his. “Did you know about this?”
Angela shook her head. Fear and trepidation filled her. What would the four of them say after so many years, so many hurts? She kept her eyes on Bill, her whispered words shaky. “I thought I was seeing things.”
The Galanters made the first move.
Sheila took a few steps into the room, her eyes vulnerable and heavy with . . . could it be? Was it remorse? The beginnings of hope stirred in Angela’s soul. Ten feet away now, Sheila looked at Bill, and then, after a long beat, she shifted her gaze. Angela swallowed hard as her eyes met that of her long-ago friend.
Sheila’s voice broke as the first words left her lips. “I’m sorry, Angela. I was . . . so wrong.”
Angela couldn’t speak or move. She didn’t dare draw a breath or blink until the words found her heart. Sheila was here and she was sorry? Was it really true?
“Bill, Sheila’s right.” Samuel took a step closer and put his hand on the foot of Bill’s bed. “We — ” His eyes fell, and Sheila reached for his hand. When he looked up, his eyes shone with emotion. “We were wrong. We owe you an apology.”
The entire scene played out in a handful of seconds, but still, so far she and Bill hadn’t said a word. Angela’s eyes were full, blurring her vision. What could she say after such a long time? Shane backed up and stood next to Emily and Lauren, the three of them doing their best to blend into the background.
Samuel cleared his throat and continued. “We were wrong, how we handled the situation with our kids.” He narrowed his eyes and worked the muscles in his jaw. Then he gave a solid shake of his head. “We were wrong in too many ways to count.”
“We knew Shane was here.” Sheila took another step toward them. She looked at Bill. “We knew you were sick. And we had to come. We’ve let so much time pass.”
Angela hung her head for a moment. Her knees were steady, but her whole body shook. There had been years and years when she believed she’d see Lauren again, and maybe even Shane. But she never once thought she’d see this — these old friends finding a way back to the same place. She looked up and her eyes met Sheila’s. “I . . . can’t believe you came.”
“We’re so sorry.” Samuel put his arm around Sheila’s waist. He had been an intimidating businessman in his day, a man who neither smiled nor laughed easily. But now — if the sincerity in his eyes was any indication — he was a changed man.